A White, Right Christmas
by BohoGirls78
Summary: RENTfic: Mark learns to appreciate the holidays with a little help from an old friend. Updated: 12-25-03
1. A Not So Jolly Christmas

Chapter 1: A Not So Jolly Christmas  
  
"December 24th, 2 PM. Eastern Standard Time. . . I hate Christmas. It seems to me that it was made into a major holiday just to make Jewish children jealous. Christmas is all a lie. I mean, come on. There IS no Santa, there IS no peace on earth, and there CERTAINLY isn't good will to men. So what are we really celebrating? Presents. Material goods. Don't we already have enough holidays dedicated to buying things? Christmas didn't used to be like this. I blame it all on Hallmark. Wow. I really sound like Scrooge around the holidays. The irony of all ironies is that of all the memories I have, almost all of them are of Christmas. It seems like that's the time each year when we all stop and take stock of our lives. So let's see. It's Christmas Eve. We're supposed to be having a party later today. Roger and Collins are trying to brace the crooked tree so that it stands up straight. The girls are in the kitchen attempting to cook. It'll be a miracle if we make it to the party without burning the building down. And here I am sitting in my room-sulking because I hate Christmas. Plus I had Maureen for Secret Santa and I still don't have a gift. I thought about getting her a box of condoms, but then I decided that Joanne probably wouldn't appreciate that. Okay, this is ridiculous. . .I have to get out of this room. . .Do I smell smoke?"  
  
Mark shut off his camera, set it carefully beside him on the bed, and walked out to the living room/kitchen. There were clouds of thick black smoke filling the loft.  
  
"My Christmas cookies!" Mimi shrieked, "Maureen, what did you do to them?!"  
  
"I only turned it on 450. . ." Maureen moaned, "Rudolf, jingle bells, and Santa Claus all ruined."  
  
"Oh, guys, I leave you alone for two minutes and you ruin the cookies. Now what will we do?" Joanne replied to the weepy girls.  
  
"Aww, guy don't worry we can buy some cookies. It was just an experiment anyway." Roger's soothing voice calmed the girls and dried their tears.  
  
Mark shook his head and wished that he could have that kind of influence. If he could cal everyone with a few words, things would be a lot less crazy.  
  
Mark's thoughts were interrupted by a resounding crash as Collins fell off the ladder he'd been using to work on the tree.  
  
"Collins!" they all shouted as they ran to the moaning professor.  
  
"Are you okay?" Maureen shouted.  
  
"How many fingers am I holding up?!" Mark asked frantically.  
  
"I'm fine, and you're holding up four fingers. I think I twisted m ankle. Can I please have some ice?"  
  
"Sure, go outside and get yourself some," Maureen said sarcastically, "Or better yet, run the water in the sink and *make* some. It's cold enough in here."  
  
"Oh, that was *real* helpful, Mo," Roger shot back.  
  
"What can I say? I'm just a helping hand at the ready." Maureen cooed.  
  
There was a collective snort at that. As Mark and Maureen's hourly fight was progressing, Mimi was breaking out the ice trays and making a make- shift ice pack.  
  
"Doctor Marquez, paging Doctor Marquez," Collins mocked in an intercom- esque voice.  
  
"Oh, my brave little soldier," Mimi replied melodramatically.  
  
Collins was lifted onto the creaky couch and made as comfortable as possible.  
  
Everyone jumped in surprise as Mark started tickling Maureen and she gave a piercing shriek.  
  
"All right, that's *enough*!" Collins shouted. "Can't a poor old man get some rest?"  
  
They all stifled their laughter and started separate decorating tasks. The mistletoe was put up and walked under many times by Mimi and Roger as well as Joanne and Maureen. Mark and Collins just stood by and shuffled their feet. Or in Collins' case-foot.  
  
"Here, Collins," Maureen said proudly, offering him an object dripping with some kind of slime.  
  
Mimi eyed it warily and backed behind Roger.  
  
"What is that?" Collins asked.  
  
"A cast. For you ankle. I made it out of papier mache. "  
  
"Gee, thanks, Mo, that's just what I wanted for Christmas." Collins replied through gritted teeth and a crooked smile.  
  
"Yes, I know." Maureen replied skipping back to the mistletoe. Roger picked up his guitar and started to strum "Deck the Halls," while Mimi put another batch of cookies in the oven. Mark was just about to start a story board for his new movie when the Grinch himself burst in.  
  
"Ho ho ho!" Benny said while barging in the six friends winter wonderland.  
  
"Don't worry kids, I'm not here for the rent. I come in peace and I even brought an offering. That's right. I even brought the booze."  
  
"BOOZE! Yay! Let's get this party started!" Maureen cried, leaping at Benny and his peace offering. Maureen poured the drinks and everyone, including Mark the designated driver of the bunch, drank up.  
  
"oooo, Marky is joining in on the fun." Benny commented through a sneer.  
  
"Yes, that's right. 'Marky' is going to party hard tonight." Mark said while downing the rest of his drink.  
  
"Whoa, Marky, easy there," Benny warned, "You're gonna have a killer hangover."  
  
"Ah, worry about it later." Mark slurred. "Gimme another."  
  
Mark held out his glass to Maureen, who clumsily splashed more of the ligquid into his glass.  
  
"Anyone have music?" Roger asked.  
  
Benny, who was now very drunk, nodded eagerly.  
  
"Yeah. I got a boom box in my car."  
  
So Benny went and got it. They pumped up cheesy rock Christmas carols on the radio, and pretty soon everyone was dancing, laughing, and being completely wild.  
  
By midnight, the Christmas tree had been knocked over again after Maureen had tried to climb it, Benny was sitting on the floor singing old Irish drinking songs, and Roger and Mimi had retreated to their bedroom. Even Mark had passed out on the couch. Collins and Joanne were the only ones still marginally sane.  
  
Collins got up, limped over to Mark, and shook him gently.  
  
"I can't wake him up. You think we should call a doctor?"  
  
Joanne shook her head.  
  
"Nah-he's just had too much to drink, he'll come around in the morning."  
  
~~~**~~~ To be continued. . . 


	2. An Old Friend

~~~**~~~

Chapter 2: An Old Friend

_Blackness.__ Then vibrant colors. Reds and blues clashed to create pale orange. Yellow and green made pink. Images of homeless people on the street begging for bread. Little children crying for their mothers. Rolex and Oakley venders pushed their knock-offs in tourists' faces. Masked men stalking a woman in an alley. Fear. A shivering faceless person sitting on a _Central Park__ bench.___ A blind man walking the street. Druggies selling their soul to the devil. To their drug dealer. Whores and drag queens looking for a bed and an easy customer. Retarded people wandering the streets preaching the word of God. God. Death. Angel. AIDS. Roger, Mimi, and Collins. AZT. Not enough. Hospitals. White hospital sheets. Suffering-Death-Angel-film. Blackness._

Mark opened his eyes and blinked.

"I am *never* drinking again," he groaned, dragging himself out of bed. He staggered out into the living room and began searching desperately for Advil, wondering where everyone had gone and how he'd gotten from the couch into his bedroom. Suddenly, there were gleaming white lights on the Christmas tree. Mark covered his eyes and groaned. As the lights got brighter, Mark grew more concerned that Benny had slipped him something. The lights became so bright that he curled up on the couch and shielded his eyes.

"You okay, honey?" a soft familiar voice asked. 

"Angel?" Mark gasped, staring open mouthed.

"Well who else would it be, you silly boy?" Angel replied, ruffling Mark's hair.

"You look beautiful."

"Why thank you, my dear," Angel said, blushing a bit. "That's what heaven does to you."

Mark, still in shock, watched Angel, who was wearing a white flapper dress, sparkly Go-Go boots, a diamond necklace, and a glowing halo over her head, prance around the room redecorating the tree.

"Dear me, this Christmas tree is pathetic." Said the exasperated Angel at last.

"Well. . .ummm. . .things haven't been so good lately," Mark said quietly.

"I kind of figured that," Angel said, wrapping her arm around Mark's shoulders. "It must be some pretty bad times to get Mark Cohen this drunk. So tell me. What's the trouble?"

"Oh, I don't know, Angel," Mark said dejectedly. "Everything's just so. . .wrong."

"Please, Marky, tell me." Angel pleaded, batting her eyelashes.

Mark went on to tell Angel about how he wasn't inspired to film anymore because the world was so cruel. He told him of Roger and Mimi and how they fought all the time and somehow he always got involved. He told of Benny's pushyness, Maureen and Joanne's constant break-ups and rebounds. And when Mark told Angel about Collins' desperate escape from reality, by immersing himself in work, Angel's deep brown eyes filled with tears and her mascara began to run.

"Oh, Angel, please don't cry." Mark pleaded, "I am just complaining—life isn't so terrible."

"Mark, I've been watching you all and you're right, life is terrible. I'm so sorry I left you all." Angel began to cry harder and her tears turned into sobs.

"Angel! You taught us all so  much. WE love you. We will always love you."

"You won't forget me?" Angel sniffled.

"Never. I hope they won't forget me now that I'm gone."

"Gone? What do you mean gone?"

"Well, I mean now that I'm dead-"

"Mark, sweetie!" Angel started to laugh as she ran her hands through her sparkly bleached blonde hair. "You aren't dead."

"But how—why?"

"Are you trying to ask me why I'm here?"

"I don't know!" Mark shouted in frustration.

"Well, Marky honey. . ."

Mark cringed at the use of his nickname, and Angel instantly looked apologetic.

"As you said yourself, times have been rough lately, and I thought it might help you if I showed you how to find the Christmas cheer in it."

Mark looked skeptical.

"Umm. . .thanks but. . .I don't think that's going to be possible."

But Angel just smiled.

"Oh, silly Marky, of course it's possible! Here, take my hand" Angel offered him a hand covered in white glitter that seemed to glow strangely.

Angel, are you sure I'm not dead. I think that I'd almost rather be."  
  
"MARK! Don't you ever say that again! Look what happened when I died. Look what happened to all of you when I died. You are the glue of the group. You hold them all together. Don't you ever let me hear you say something like that again. Do you hear me?"  
  
"Ok, ok!" Mark shot back  
  
"Now take my hand and don't even think about putting on your pouty face. You know it doesn't work on me." Angel replied in her most superior tone.  
  
Mark took Angel's hand timidly and suddenly remembered how smooth her skin always was and how warm it made him feel inside.   
  
*WOOSH!!!!!!*  
  
_"I'm scared."_

_"You're a dummy, that's what you are."_

Mark blinked hard until his vision came into focus on two little blond boys sitting on a swing set.

"It's-It's me!" Mark marveled to Angel, who he suddenly found standing next to him. "And Roger! In. . .preschool."

Angel just nodded and smiled.

_"But it's creepy." The five-year old Roger insisted. _

_"What is?"_

_"A man who can see you all the time.__ And know everything about you. Come on Marky, admit it. You're scared too."_

Mark cringed, remembering how very early his nickname had first started.

_"I'm not scared, you dummy. There's no Santa and you know it."_

_Roger looked at Mark skeptically._

_"You sure?"___

_"'course I'm sure." _

_Preschool Roger breathed a sigh of relief._

Mark looked at Angel and laughed. 

"Wow, we were a couple of dorks, weren't we."

_So does this mean that I don't have to be good anymore because Santa doesn't exist?" asked Roger, his eyes starting to well up with tears_

_"Yes, that is exactly what I mean." Marky said triumphantly. "That's another good thing about being Jewish. WE"RE not being LIED TO. So NAH!" Mark said, sticking out his tongue _

_Roger began to sniffle discreetly. His sniffles then turned into tears, which turned into racking sobs_

_" Wait__, why are you crying? A couple of minutes ago you sounded happy that there was no Santa." Mark pouted_

_"I was only happy because then no one would have known that I was the one who pulled the fire alarm yesterday." Roger sobbed_

_"YOU WERE THE ONE WHO PULLED THE FIRE ALARM??" Mark shouted jumping out of his swing_

_"I…I…I thought it was a light switch…" Roger confessed_

_"Ooooooo Roger… you are gonna be in SOOOO much trouble when I tell your mommy!" said Mark, who was grinning from ear to ear_

_"NO! Don't! She will give me coal for Christmas and I won't get those guitar lessons that were promised to me if I was a good boy!" Roger pleaded jumping out of his swing and getting down on his knees_

_"You are pathetic Rog." Marky said rolling his eyes "I won't tell her as long as you promise me ONE thing."_

_"What's that?" Roger asked, nervously._

_"That you'll be in my new movie when I get the camera mommy bought me for Christmas."_

_"Umm...okay..." Roger agreed._

"Oh, don't make me relive this part. . ." Mark groaned. "Please, please don't make me relive this part."

"What, you mean you filming Roger dancing around in his underwear?" Angel asked, grinning.

"How'd you know that?" Mark was shocked.

"Mark, honey, I'm dead. I know everything about everyone now. But I won't make you relive it. Come on, let's go."

And with that, the scene vanished.

There was a moment of darkness in which Mark could feel a gentle wind blowing across his face. Then he found himself back in the loft, lying on the couch with Angel standing over him!

So that really wasn't a dream?" Mark asked with a yawn and a stretch

"No sweetie this is real and don't you fall back asleep!"

Angel smacked Mark on the shoulder and Mark swiftly rolled over and sat up.

"There's more then?" Mark asked sounding less than pleased

"Yes baby, you have a lot to see and learn." Angel replied taking Mark's cold hand in his own. 

FLASH!

~~~**~~~

A/N: Oh, what will happen next? Hmm. . .I wonder. . .review and we shall tell you!


	3. Christmas Bells

Chapter 3: Christmas Bells

~~~**~~~

_The street. Cars rushing by, people making up their own rules of traffic, rushing to meet their destinations in time. People shouting, trampling beating one another over the last new video game, the latest computer. The park. A group of people gathered around the Man, waiting in line to sell their souls._

Mark looked around in confusion, struggling to spot Angel in the crowd of people.

No sooner had Mark started to look, the crowd parted and Angel was standing there in full Santa drag. Mark was flooded with memories of the first day he'd met Angel. She was wearing that same outfit.

Angel chasayed up to Mark and gave him a peck on the cheek. Mark could feel the sparkly glitter on his unshaven cheek. 

"Well, Marky, are you ready for some more holiday cheer?"

"This is hardly what I call holiday cheer." Mark replied looking around at Mother's scolding their whining children, druggies with their holiday "gifts," and homeless people shivering under a trash bag on a Central Park bench.

"Well...well...well...if we aren't STILL Mr. Scrooge himself!" Angel shot back looking a little hurt

"I'm sorry Angel I will try to look at the happy things now." Mark said, playing damage control.

"Good. Now watch." Angel pointed back to the crowd of junkies.

Mark looked around, puzzled.

"What am I supposed to be watching?"

"There, look," Angel pointed again, and Mark suddenly caught sight of Mimi, walking through the park on her way back to the loft. He watched as she stopped and looked intently at the crowd of junkies, shifting her weight uncomfortably. For a moment Mark thought she was about to go and join them, but then she shook her head and walked away toward home.

"Okay. . ." Mark prompted, "What are you showing me?"

"You influence," Angel answered simply, "It was because of you that Roger quit, and because of him that Mimi did too. You saved them both. Now come on, let's go for a walk. I have more to show you."

As Angel guided Mark through the streets, a change seemed to occur inside the filmmaker's frail body. Mark stood up straighter and didn't stare at the ground. Mark noticed the Christmas tree in Rockefeller Center and he seemed to start to see the happiness on everyone's faces. This was the one day a year when everyone had a smile on t heir face and a friendly "Hello," or "Happy Holidays," on their lips. _Maybe Christmas isn't so bad, _Mark began to think.

"You're right, Marky," Christmas isn't so bad. I'm glad you're starting to see it my way."

They continued to walk down the New York City blocks. They were all decorated with lights and garland. Mark was sure that not smiling was near impossible, and at the point he was beaming from ear to ear.

"Ho ho ho! Merry Christmas!"

"That voice is strangely familiar," Mark said.

"HO HO HO! MERRY CHRISTMAS!"

Angel and Mark looked at each other and began to giggle uncontrollably. 

"Maureen." They said in unison.

They turned to see Maureen standing in front of a store front in full Santa garb, ringing a bell and collecting donations in a red kettle.

"Maureen!" Mark yelled, running toward her and waving his arms.

"Mark, Mark, *wait*!" Angel called. "She can't see you."

"What? Why not?"

"Because—well, I can't really explain it to you. But you're not ready to go back yet."

"I'm not ready to go back where?"

"To the—oh, nevermind!" Angel threw up her hands in frustration.

"Hey! Hey, lady!" Maureen's shrill voice interrupted them. They both turned to watch. An old woman stood staring angrily at Maureen. 

"You can't just put a penny in there! How's that supposed to help anyone?"

"Look, miss," the woman answered, "You're lucky I don't have you arrested for disturbing the peace. For a woman dressed up in a Santa suit, you sure aren't very jolly."

The woman huffed and walked away. A little boy walking by stopped and looked at his mother.

"Mommy, what happens when *Santa* acts naughty?"

The woman looked at her son in puzzlement.

"Well, honey, I'm sure Santa doesn't act naughty."

The boy pointed at Maureen.

"That one does."

By this time Angel and Mark were laughing so hard that they were crying.

"They should NEVER let Maureen be Santa…EVER!" Mark gasped.

"You're right! However, Marky, you started it." Angel replied, wiping her smudged smoky eyes

"What do you mean?" Mark asked a little confused

"Well, you gave her the performing bug with your film making." Angel explained

"Oh my- I have created a monster!!" Mark cried, his voice cracking in exasperation

"But look at how much entertainment you have provided us." Angel interjected patting Mark on the back

"You're right. I wouldn't have it any other way." 

"Well, it looks as if we are done here. I think we better get out of here before the NYPD arrive and take Maureen downtown." Angel said in her thickest New York accent 

Mark and Angel continued to walk down the busy sidewalks, dressed in holiday style. Suddenly Angel was aware that Mark was humming a Christmas tune. Angel smiled to herself as they came upon a dilapidated building with scarce lights decorating the door and balcony. 

"Where are we?" Mark asked looking up at the sign on the building. The sign read "Life Support"

"We are at a place for healing and growing." Angel touching the sign with a tenderness that Mark had never seen before. Angel looked as if she was about to cry. However, she pulled herself together and walked through the door. Mark followed, not knowing that he could walk through walls. Once they were in the building Angel seemed to know exactly where she was going and led Mark through the hallways and finally stopped at a door that read "Paul".  The two friends then walked into the room and stood in the corner. Mark observed a group of people sitting in a circle and holding hands. There was someone in the center of the circle of love crying in spite of himself. 

"…does no one understand that I should have died three years ago?" a man asked his group of friends

"Gordon, we understand. We are here for you. We are all in this together."  reassured a man that Mark could only guess was Paul.

"Thank you Paul. And I'm sorry. It's just that it's especially hard around the holidays. I feel that the only gift that's good enough for everyone is life. And they already have that." Gordon smiled wiping his tears away.  

"You're right. Life is the best gift anyone could have. That is why we have this group. We have to keep telling each other that we haven't died yet. We have to keep living our lives to the fullest and-"

"That's what Angel did," a familiar voice rang and the room fell silent. "Angel always lived life to the fullest and told me that we were living, not dying, from disease. She was the best example of life. She loved life more than anyone that I know. She wasn't afraid. She wasn't afraid of dying because in her heart she wasn't dying. She wasn't afraid of dying. Oh no- she was just afraid of leaving us all behind. She was afraid that she would be forgotten and that we would hate her for leaving us. Well, she didn't leave us and we love her as much as we did when she was alive. Angel will always live here." Collins pointed to his heart, "Angel will always live in my heart." At that, Tom Collins stood up and patted Gordon on the back. "Don't be afraid, any of you. There is nothing to be afraid of. As long as you have love and as long as you have good friends like mine you will live on forever."

Mark looked over at Angel, his eyes full of tears.

"See, I told you we wouldn't forget you. Can we go back now?"

Angel nodded slowly and grabbed Mark's hand.

"Brace yourself, this is gonna be rough."

~~~**~~~


	4. You'll Come Around In the Morning

Chapter 4: You'll Come Around in the Morning

~~~**~~~

There was darkness, and once again the rush of air, but this time it was icy cold and had an ominous, musty smell to it.

Mark found himself in the dark loft once again, but this time it was completely deserted. 

The Christmas tree was gone. Cobwebs grew from the walls. Mark had the uneasy feeling that it hadn't been lived in in years.

An object in the corner caught his eye. Mark walked over to it and brushed off what must have been nearly an inch of debris. His heart stopped cold. It was Roger's guitar.

"A-Angel?" Mark stammered.

A dark hooded figure stepped out of the abandoned loft's doorway. Mark felt a chill go up his spine as he realized that the Angel he knew wouldn't be joining him. He was on his own this time. The Angel of Death beckoned the shivering filmmaker towards him. Mark stepped into the phantom, knowing that he wouldn't like anything he was going to be shown.

"I'm ready to see what the future holds for me." Said Mark.

The phantom nodded and lifted his pale, black polished fingernail and pointed towards where Roger and Mimi's room used to be.

Mark peered in the door and saw a mattress in the middle of the room. On either side of the so-called "bed" there were cardboard boxes. Inside the boxes were torn clothing and piles of used needles. The floor was littered with pill bottles. Mark picked up an empty bottle and read:

"Davis, Mimi," which was boldy printed on the faded label.

Mark turned to the Angel of Death.

"Are-are these-" Mark glanced back at the label just to be sure. "These are anti-depressants."

The angel just stared back. Mark shuddered slightly, swallowing down tears.

"And Roger. . .is he. . .dead?" Mark thought he saw the Angel shudder slightly, but maybe it was just the cold wind blowing in the open window. Mark knew instinctively that he was right. He glanced back at the pill bottle again.

"This says. . .they were married?"

Nothing.

Suddenly, images began to flash through Mark's mind.

A funeral. Roger's funeral. Mimi dressed in black. Rain, freezing rain. The sky dark and gray, slashed open by white lightning. The loft again. Needles. Smack. The bathroom. A straight razor. A note scrawled in Mimi's shaky hand.

"NOOOOO!" Mark jarred himself back to the present, his throat torn open by the scream.

The black Angel stood in front of him, as silent and composed as ever. The Angel reached out to him. Mark braced himself and took the cold gray hand.

Another rush of air, and Mark found himself in Collins' apartment. It, too, was dark and cold. But from the dishes in the sink and brown leather jacket thrown on the couch, Mark knew that it *was* still lived in.

Mark picked up an old, tattered journal that had been thrown on the couch.

_December 25th_

_Mimi died last night. I think I've known since Roger's death she didn't have much time left. She went back to using the next day. Just destroyed herself. It was like she had nothing left to live for. I don't think anyone was really surprised when we found her in that bathroom. It's ironic that she died on Christmas Eve. I guess maybe it was because Roger wasn't here to bring her back this time._

Mark flipped back the pages with a shaky hand.

_November 9th_

_I can't handle it anymore. I cannot support this group of people by myself. Now that Angel and Mark are gone-_

Mark's head shot up and he looked at the ghost with a pleading glance. The phantom shook its head and gestured back to the journal. 

_The weight on my heart is too heavy. I don't understand. Why did Mark move back to __Scarsdale__?_

"SCARSDALE! I would never go back there! Why would I-?"

The hooded Angel shook its head. Mark obeyed and kept reading.

_I never thought that he would abandon us. I know that times were hard._

More images assaulted Mark.

_Benny's Range Rover smashed. Maureen holding hands with the lady in rubber. Joanne drowning herself in a new case. Roger partying with the band-coming home with his eyes glazed over. Mimi confused and naïve. Collins and Mark picking up the pieces. _

Mark shook his head and refocused on the journal.

_I never thought he would leave us like that. I don't think he realized how much he meant to us._

Mark took off his glasses, wiped off the tears from the lens, and placed them back on his pale face. He read on:

_December 15th_

_I am getting weaker. I have given up on the AZT. It's just stalling the inevitable. It's just prolonging death. Besides, no one goes to Life Support with me. It's hard to drag myself there with no motivation. Death is starting to cover me with a heavy blanket. The walls are closing in and my breathing is becoming more shallow. Oh, well, the sonner I die, the sooner I can escape reality._

Mark flipped to the very last entry in the journal, dreading what he would find.

_December 27th_

_Mark died last week in __Scarsdale__. I had no idea until I got the funeral notice in the mail today, six days late. I wonder if anyone went. Probably just his family, since Maureen and Joanne moved to LA last year. I'm pretty much the last member of our sorry little group. And I'm sure even *i* don't have much time left._

Mark closed the journal with shaking hands and took a long, ragged breath. He turned to the Angel, who he would feel watching him under the dark cloak.

"Take me back."

The Angel nodded slowly and Mark found himself back in the deserted loft.

"No. . ." he groaned, "NO! I want to go back to the present! Angel, please?"

The Angel didn't respond, and Mark felt the tickling of an idea at the back of his mind begin to solidify itself into a complete thought.

"You're not Angel, are you?" he asked accusingly.

The figure shook its head.

"Who are you?" Mark felt his knees begin to buckle, and he grabbed onto the couch for support. "Please tell me."

The figure lowered its cloak, revealing a face all too familiar to Mark. Bleached blond hair spiked up in all directions. High cheekbones hollowed out by months of sickness. Once clear brown eyes ringed with dark circles.

Mark gasped.

"Roger?"

He nodded, and pointed to the couch.

"Go back to sleep, Mark. You're bound to come around in the morning."

~~~**~~~

::Ominous music:: How will the story end? Review and you will find out!


	5. Endings and Beginnings

Chapter 5: Endings and Beginnings 

~~~**~~~

"So how was your so-called 'bright future'?"

"Angel! That was horrible! I missed you so much! I though it was you but it was—"

"Roger, yes I know."

"Angel. It was Roger." Mark's face fell. "It was Roger, but it wasn't MY Roger."

Angel shook her head, "You're right, Mark, it wasn't. *That* is what Roger would become if you left."

Mark looked disbelievingly at Angel.

"And-and Mimi? And Collins?"

Angel nodded again. 

"All of it. But *you* have the power to change that."

"How do I mean that much? How *Can* I mean that much?"

"You are the filmmaker, sweetie. You see life at a perspective no one else sees. You don't have an altered reality. You see things in black and white on that portal to the real world."

Mark shook his head. "I think I know what you mean."

"Sweetie, I love you so much. Merry Christmas and please, share your gift with the world and don't be afraid to smile. You are the glue. Don't let the group fall apart. And baby, Collins is right—I will always be right here." Angel put her hand over Mark's heart and began to slowly fade away.

"Mark? Mark!" Mark opened his eyes slowly and groaned as the light sent daggers of pain through his head. 

Roger was standing over him, shaking him gently and looking concerned.

"Advil. . .is. . .my god. . . " Mark croaked.

He could hear Mimi laughing in the background.

"Merry Christmas, Sunshine," Maureen murmured, stepping into his field of vision. "I see you've become acquainted with the term 'hangover' overnight."

"Merry. . . what?" Asked the very groggy Mark.

"Merry CHRISTMAS you silly boy! It's Christmas day." Maureen said popping her hip.

"Wow, Marky, you're really hungover," Roger commented.

"Roger. . .ROGER! YOU'RE NOT DEAD! Mimi. . .MIMI! YOU'RE NOT DEAD EITHER! This is the best Christmas present ever!"

Mark was grinning from ear to ear.

"Wow, never let that man touch alcohol again," Benny muttered in disgust.

"Oh, c'mon, Benny, show a little Christmas cheer!" Mark admonished him. The other exchanged puzzled glances at Mark's sudden exuberance.

"Hey, look guys, presents!" Mimi called, pointing to the corner where the tree was. And sure enough, there were presents scattered under the tree which was suddenly standing up straight.

"Here, Marky," Maureen said, handing him a box of condoms. "For when you get lucky. Then again, since you never get lucky, you could always…BLOW THEM UP AND MAKE BALLOONS!"

Before Mark could stop her, Maureen grabbed the box from him and began blowing them up to an alarming size. Before long, she'd begun to organize a condom ball game. Mark, Roger, and Mimi were on one team, Collins, Benny, and Maureen were on the other. Joanne refused to have anything to do with it. She sat in the corner and watched them, rolling her eyes at their hopelessness. 

"All right, everyone!" Maureen called. "The goal of the game is to KEEP IT UP!"

Mark's team, the Trojans, won the game, leaving Collins, Benny, and Maureen sulking in a corner. The winners continued batting around one of the condom balloons until it burst.

"All right, all right!" Collins called at last. "Enough! I think we've used up our quota of pervertedness for one day."  
  
"But it's Christmas!" Maureen protested. "Doesn't that mean we get to be *extra* perverted?"  
  
Everyone gave her a strange look.  
  
"Umm. . .right. . ." Roger muttered.  
  
"Hey, can we open the presents now?" Mark asked eagerly eyeing the goodies under the tree.  
  
"But you don't believe in Santa!" Roger teased, "So there can't be any there for *you*!"  
  
"That's not true!" Collins said standing up and walking to the back of the tree. Collins picked up an envelope and walked over to Mark.   
  
"Merry Christmas, Mark." Collins looked eagerly as Mark turned over the envelope. The envelope read New York University on the back.  
  
Mark opened the envelope in one tear. Mark read the first line aloud:  
"Congratulations Mark Cohen! You have been accepted to NYU Film Institute! Inclosed is your schedule and a list of materials you will be needing. Second Semester starts on January 8 th and we can't wait to see you."   
  
"Wow!" Mark exclaimed jumping up, "Collins, this is amazing...It's like...a dream come true!"

Everyone oooed and ahhed over Mark's gift for a few minutes, then Maureen began passing out the previous night's Christmas cookies. Benny took a bite of one and made a break for the bathroom, which caused everyone else to politely dispose of the cookies when Maureen wasn't looking. 

At last the stack of presents had been demolished, and all that remained was a pile of shredded wrapping paper. Mark was sprawled out under the tree, paging through the photography book Roger had given him. Maureen was running in and out of the bathroom, trying on various new articles of clothing. Collins was playing chess with Joanne on the brand new board she'd bought him. Roger sat back on the couch and took it all in. Mimi walked over to him and sat down beside him, laying her head on his shoulder.

"Hey," Roger greeted her.

Mimi gave him an odd look.

"Hey yourself. Did you forget that it's Christmas, or did you just decide I've been too naughty to get anything from you this year?"

Roger laughed.

"Well. . .that's probably true. . .but no. I've just been waiting for the appropriate time to give it to you."

Mimi quirked an eyebrow at him. Roger handed her a small box wrapped in blue and silver paper. 

Mimi carefully slit the wrapping paper with her long nails and opened the box. Then she stopped short and looked up at Roger.

"Is this. . .?"

Roger blushed crimson and pulled the small ring out of the box.

"Yes."

Mimi grinned at him.

"Aren't you supposed to get down on one knee?"

Roger cleared his throat.

"Oh, um. . .yeah. . ."

He slipped off the coach and knelt in front of her, taking her hand in his.

"Um . . I know I haven't always been good to you, and sometimes I can be a downright asshole. . .with no money. . ."

"Roger."

"And. . ."

"Roger."

"What?"

"Shut up, you're ruining it!"

Roger blushed even harder and cleared his throat. 

"Mimi Marquez, will you marry me?"

Mimi stared at him for a moment, pretending to consider.

"Please say yes?" Roger pleaded.

"Hell yes!" she threw her arms around his neck in a bone-crushing hug.

Everyone else in the room came out of the trance they'd been in and started applauding.

Maureen and Joanne rushed to Mimi to see her ring, which Mimi was looking at with tears in her eyes. In the meantime, Mark and Collins tackled Roger with their congratulations. The lights on the Christmas tree danced. Mark ran to his faithful camera.

  
"Picture time!" the ecstatic filmmaker shouted as everyone gathered around the tree. However, they had to walk through the mistletoe first so it took the lovebirds, Roger and Mimi, some time to get in position.

  
 "Marky, why don't you be in the picture for once?" Roger asked with a certain special warmth that only a best friend possesses.

 "You know what- I think thats a great idea, but first I wanted to give Collins his gift." said Mark walking into his room. 

Collins perked up at hearing his name and gift in the same sentence. 

Then Mark emerged from his room looking triumphant with a package that he was handling with great care.

  
"Merry Christmas Collins, from both of us."

  
Collins gingerly tore the wrapping paper revealing a framed picture. It was a black and white image of him and Angel on the day that they'd first met. Angel, dressed in her Santa drag, had her arms around Collins' neck and was staring at him with adoration. Collins' head was thrown back in mid laugh and looked extremely happy. Love radiated from the picture's frame. Collins looked up at Mark with a genuine smile.

  
"Thank you Mark, This means so much to me. She means so much to me. You mean so much to me- all of you- and don't any of you ever give up and don't forget that friendship is thicker than blood."

  
Collins was embraced by the teary friends who all knew that this moment was what Christmas was really about.

  
Mark piped up, "And God bless us- everyone." 

  
A contagious laughter spread through the circle.

  
Mark whispered so that only Collins and Roger could hear, "I love you all so much." 

  
The tree danced and the picture frame became brighter. 

  
"SMILE!" Mark shouted, throwing back his head and joining in the laughter. And for once, everyone was happy.

~~~**~~~

THE END!! Review please!


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